Steve awoke to the sound of the phone ringing. Phil wasn't far behind, but Steve beat him to it.

Phil realized it was two in the afternoon. Holy shit, we were up late last night.

"Hello?" Steve furrowed his brows together.

"Who is it?" Phil mouthed, standing next to him. Steve pressed a finger to Phil's lips.

"Holy shit." Steve's mouth was gaping open, jaw gone slack. He bit his lip nervously, twirling the cord of the phone around his finger. "Shit, Joe - Is he gonna be okay?"

Phil couldn't make out what the person - now recognized as Joe - was saying, and it was driving him insane.

"Fuck. Okay, we'll be there as soon as we can. See you there." Steve hung up, staring at Phil with a wild look in his eyes.

"Rick got in a car crash."

Phil immediately jumped into action, yanking clothes out of drawers and dressing himself as quickly as possible, Steve not far behind.

"Is he okay?"

"His fucking arm.. got severed. Off. Completely." Steve mumbled, dumbstruck, as he dragged Phil out to the car and started it.

Phil was silent for the rest of the ride.

Steve pulled into the hospital and parked, leaping out and racing to the front doors. Phil darted along after him, his every breath catching in his throat, fear spiking in his veins.

"What's the room?" Steve grumbled to himself, desperately trying to remember.

"He doesn't have one yet. He's still in surgery." Joe's monotonous voice replied from behind them. Phil turned and saw him and Sav sitting on a bench off to the side. The other two made their way over, sitting down with their friends.

"What happened exactly?" Phil asked gently, brows furrowed in worry.

"He was trying to pass some asshole on the highway, and lost control of the car. Seatbelt wasn't fastened right; off it goes." Sav replied crudely, burying his face in his hands. Joe wrapped his arm around the bassist's shoulders. Sav found himself sobbing into Joe's chest.

"Do you think he'll.. make it?" Steve whispered, entwining his fingers with Phil's.

"He'd better." Joe growled, internally cursing the seatbelt that could've kept Rick safe if it hadn't broke.

Steve felt his eyes watering up. He couldn't handle the fact that it was possible that Rick could die.

It reminded him how any of them could die, any day. He could die. Steve felt more determination than ever to give up alcohol for good.

Instead, he found himself reaching for his hip flask, which he still carried with him, but rarely drank from.

Phil deftly snagged it out of his hand, shoving it in his own back pocket. He understood why Steve wanted it, but he couldn't watch him put the container to his lips.

Steve was grateful that Phil had retained some self-control in all of this.

Steve leaned back on the bench and closed his eyes, his breathing becoming soft and even as he slipped into a nap.

"How long has Rick been in surgery?" Phil murmured quietly, his hand still interlocked with Steve's. Occasionally, he'd feel Steve squeeze his hand in his unconsciousness, almost like he was checking that Phil was still there.

"About two hours." Joe replied, stroking Sav's hair. "He should be out soon, they said. They don't know if he'll be able to keep his arm because of a possible infection and it may need to be re-amputated, but they're reattaching it now."

Phil shivered. It was sick. The fact that this could happen to someone close to him, or just anyone at all - sick. He didn't know how Steve could sleep and not have nightmares. Phil felt like he was going to throw up.

Sav tucked hair behind his ear, snuggling into his lover's embrace.

"Why him?" He mumbled, closing his eyes and letting the tears slide down his cheeks.

"I don't know why, baby. Life is unfair."

•

Room 389.

The four men made their way over to the elevators, hope working its way into their hearts.

Rick would be okay, they had convinced themselves.

Ding. Joe led the way, but Sav found the door when Joe bypassed it on accident.

The four exchanged hugs.

Steve always held on the longest. He felt they all would need it.

Joe turned the knob, biting his lip. A nurse was blocking the way of the only view in the one-bed room. Phil's nerves were building up again, even tighter than before.

The nurse turned, gasping softly when she saw the group.

"Terribly sorry. I'll let you get to him." She murmured, slipping past them and out the door.

Sav pushed his way to the front, walking right up to the side of the bed and staring down at their friend, who was knocked out by anesthesia and enough drugs to kill a hardcore stoner.

"Fuck.." Sav felt the curse slip through his lips, although he had never made the decision to speak.

The stitches encircling Rick's shoulder almost made Sav sick. It didn't seem real - didn't feel like it. Can he even still use the arm?

Sav stood back, settling himself down in one of the chairs in the room. He couldn't look anymore.

Joe bit his lip nervously, wishing Rick would wake up, but at the same time hoping he wouldn't. He looked more peaceful like this. Rick would be in so much pain, Joe didn't think he could bear to see it. He knew he'd have to eventually, though.

Steve and Phil still had their hands tightly fixed together, as if they were glued. The grip became more and more intense as they gazed down at their friend, and Phil realized he was crying - whimpering, sobbing, the whole show. Steve held him against his chest, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Joe and Sav ended up going out to get fast food for them. Phil was curled up on Steve's lap, his breathing smooth and even.

Steve was the only one awake in the room. He stroked Phil's back softly, running fingers through his hair and working out any knots as gently as he could.

Steve leaned back in the bench, realizing then it was getting dark out. He checked his watch, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Seven already?
He silently wished that the others would hurry up with the food. Steve didn't like hospitals, and the silence made him afraid to breathe in case he woke either sleeping person up.

Steve found himself afraid. Of what, he didn't know.

Dusk was falling outside, perhaps even more rapidly than he had noticed, or maybe the corners of his vision were darkening.

Steve began to feel panicked, cornered.

Anxiety was heightening in his chest, constricting around his lungs. Steve was gasping for air in his mind, although his breaths were coming just fine.

It felt like he was going to pass out and he didn't know why.

Hurry. Hurry. 

There was a shift in the bed.

"Hey, Steve. What happened?"